


In a Heartbeat

by Nana_41175



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Drama, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, M/M, Near Death Experience, Q and Bond have an important date to settle, Romance, with allusions to His Keeper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21834811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nana_41175/pseuds/Nana_41175
Summary: Bond’s world ended when Q’s heart stopped for eight full minutes. Eight minutes was all it took for the end of the world to come and go.Written for week 2 of MI6 Cafe's Anon Gift Exchange!Prompt: The end of the world has come and gone. It is now time to rebuild. 00Q prefered but other pairings welcome too!
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 18
Kudos: 243
Collections: Mi6 Cafe Prompt Fills





	In a Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is super-late, I know. It wasn't even supposed to be written down at this point because I may be getting ahead of myself where one of my 00Q fics is concerned. But anyway, what the heck. Those of you who have read His Keeper will find some of the lines here to be very familiar, although this work does not reflect that story's part 2 and the trajectory it will take (yet). This is just a possible ending scenario stemming from that series, most likely a dream sequence. Nothing is final yet, so I won't be posting this in the series to avoid messing with its timeline. We'll just have to see how it goes with His Keeper once part 2 is up. In the meantime, I hope you will enjoy this little snippet!

Bond’s world ended when Q’s heart stopped for eight full minutes.

He stood there, numb and spattered with the enemy’s blood, unable to tear his gaze away as they started CPR on that battered, delicate body that was sprawled over the medical table, alarmingly limp. Bond could not bring himself to say, lifeless.

He was insensible to the hands that grabbed and nudged at him, deaf to the voices urging him to leave the room, to leave this to them. None of the noises was registering with him. The medics crowded around Q and all he could see was a portion of that unruly dark hair, a sliver of that pale face, turned away from him. Q was still wearing his glasses and they had to remove them as they inserted a tube down his throat.

Even that limited view was taken from him as one of the medics moved, blocking Bond’s line of sight. They continued their rhythmic motions, their voices firm, controlled, coordinated, professional. Somebody was heading the team, giving instructions.

They were doing everything they could, but Q’s heart would not start on its own.

How had things spiraled out of control this quickly?

Bond knew more than anyone that during missions, things could turn around in a heartbeat. It happened all the time, but not like this. This should not have happened. Not to Q. Anyone but Q.

This was his fault. All his fault. He’d not been able to protect the one person that he loved, the one person he’d sworn to protect with his life.

If Q died…if he died…

He could not bring himself to complete the thought, much less voice it out.

He did not know what he would do, then. He knew that life would continue. It always had, after he’d lost Vesper, M. His parents. Past lovers whose names and faces had faded from immediate memory. He’d continued on, and he could not bring himself to contemplate that.

Not again. Not this time.

To live on while his heart died. Just how much could a man take? How many slivers of his heart were there to be shed? How much more of himself could be whittled away until he felt nothing, was left with nothing?

He was getting there, but this, with Q, this felt different from all the others who went before.

He did not think he would want to survive this. He did not think he could.

He remembered cradling Q’s hand, not so long ago, kissing his fingertips, letting his lips trail down to kiss the gold band on that slim finger. They had played at being married, and that was before Bond had fallen head over heels in love with him.

 _I shall miss it, once it’s time to be removed,_ Q had said with a sigh, watching him with wistful green eyes that held a trace of sadness. _I hope you’ll let me keep it though. As a little souvenir of our time here._

He’d not been able to get a word out immediately. A lump had formed in his throat. When he finally managed to speak, his voice had been rough with emotion, “or we can opt to just keep the rings on.”

Q had stared at him, eyes widening. _What? Why?_

“I’ve tried,” Bond had said, not looking at Q. “I’ve tried with Vesper, with Madeleine. You know that. Every chance I got, I’ve tried settling down with someone. Fate wouldn’t have it, of course. Not with them, anyway. But with you…you have a habit of beating Fate at her game. Just like me.”

He could see that his words had hit home, yet Q still could not believe it. _Christ, Bond. What are you saying?_

“What if we…” Bond had to clear his throat at this point. “I was just thinking. About what the rings stand for. What if we make it real this time?”

 _Wait. You— you’re proposing?_ Q had said incredulously. _To me?!_

“And if I am,” he had replied, full of fond misgiving. “Problem?”

“You can’t die,” he found himself saying now, over and over, as the minutes passed and the medics continued their resuscitation.

_You can’t die, not when we're getting married._

They were supposed to tie the knot immediately after this mission. They were not supposed to be here, with Q down and Bond standing, blood-spattered and helpless, just a few feet away.

Four minutes into it, they defribillated Q. Bond watched as the medics cleared away briefly from that limp body, watched as that body jerked, stiffened with the electrical shock that was supposed to restart Q’s heart, broken and still.

Bond’s lips moved silently as if in prayer: _You can’t die, my darling. You can’t leave me like this._

_I should have married you the first chance we got._

How many heartbeats could a single minute fill? Bond found himself wondering. How many _I love you’s_ could those red lips utter, smiling as they pressed soft kisses on Bond’s mouth, down his neck?

 _One_ , Bond thought.

All he needed was a single heartbeat.

_Come on, darling love. Just one. Please. Just for me._

Eight minutes into it, half a lifetime later, and—

“We have a pulse,” announced one of the doctors.

Bond slumped against the wall as his legs slowly gave way. Meanwhile, the medics continued their work, preparing to inject drugs into the lV line to stabilize Q.

All the while, Bond stared at the cardiac monitor, almost hardly believing the faint trace of a jagged electronic line that heralded Q’s heart, pumping. Alive.

Eight minutes was all it took for the end of the world to come and go.

* * *

Q was kept in a medically induced coma for god only knew how long, yet when he finally surfaced to full consciousness, it was to find Bond at his side, holding his hand.

The man was asleep, seated beside Q’s bed, his head resting on his arm just inches away from Q’s elbow.

 _James_ , he thought, smiling, before he realized he had a tube stuck down his throat. There were more unpleasant surprises in store for him, he was sure, but for now, he was only glad to see his fiancé.

His tentative fingers in Bond’s hair woke him. Bond started before he lifted his head, blue eyes going from hazy to piercing in less than a second.

“Christ, Q,” said Bond hoarsely.

Q could only smile as he gave Bond a small wave with one hand. That hand was immediately siezed and brought to Bond’s lips.

“Don’t scare me like that ever again,” muttered Bond and Q knew immediately that he wasn’t talking about the immediate present.

 _I’m sorry,_ he mouthed as best he could.

Bond refused to look up even when he tried nudging him, and it took a moment for Q to realize that Bond was crying. He could feel the moisture seeping through his fingers as Bond continued to hold his hand, pressed to his cheek.

He waited, the fingers of his free hand gentle in Bond’s hair, until Bond was finally himself again.

“Don’t leave me,” was the first thing he said.

Q rolled his eyes as he gestured at himself, strapped to all manner of machines and tubes running in and out of him. _Relax, Bond._ _I’m not going anywhere._

* * *

“We should get married,” said Bond matter-of-factly. “As soon as possible.”

This, right after Q was extubated.

“That would be lovely,” said Q, his voice a faint, hoarse whisper. “I’d like for you to find some official who can do us right here, right now, and I shall marry you in a heartbeat.”

Bond surveyed Q’s hospital room and pursed his lips. “I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”

Q could not help but grin.

“Kiss me,” he merely said, and was gratified by Bond’s instant compliance.

Much later, Bond whispered, “your heart stopped for eight minutes. In those eight minutes, I wished I were dead.”

Q sighed gently. “That’s rather too much, coming from you, don’t you think, 007?” he said, unable to keep the smile from his lips.

“I failed to keep you safe,” Bond said, a spasm of pain crossing his features.

“It was a no-win scenario. It was either you or me,” said Q, “so I made my own decision.”

He continued when Bond fell silent, apparently stunned, “Besides, I came back. How can I not, when I’ve got an important date to keep with you?”

“Never do that again,” said Bond rather sternly, “choosing me over you. _Never.”_

“Are you saying you’re the only one who can do proper resurrections?” replied Q huffily. "As you can see, I can do them just fine."

“I have more experience in that department,” argued Bond stubbornly, "but that's not the point."

“Which doesn’t mean I can’t give it a go,” said Q, refusing to be derailed. “I made the call because you were sure to fail back there. You would certainly die.”

“Dammit, Q,” said Bond, outrage slowly seeping in at the thought of Q being obtuse about risking his life and being bloody _unrepentant_ about it. “You’re not winning this argument by—”

“All right, all right. If you must insist, I’ll give you the real reason. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it with you gone,” argued Q. “I don’t think I’d want to.”

That stopped Bond in his tracks.

“Does that sound familiar?” queried Q. “Because you’re not the only one to feel that way. And welcome to how I feel, left behind in Q branch, unable to do anything at times but watch and worry while you risk your neck out in the field.”

Bond stared at him incredulously for a moment before he finally shook his head. “We’re a pair of saps, is what we are,” he said. “Look what we’ve been reduced to by this bloody thing between us.”

“It can be a touch maudlin, isn’t it?” agreed Q, smile widening as he ran a hand over Bond’s hair, fingers trailing affectionately over Bond’s face. “This entire business of loving each other.”

“It can’t be helped, I suppose,” Bond conceded grumpily. “We’ve been through hell and back, as well as the end of the world, and you’ve managed to turn it all around in a heartbeat. Perhaps I should not have been so surprised by it.”

Q shrugged. “Once the shock wears off, you'll find that it's merely all in a day’s work for us,” he agreed. “So now what?”

“Now we get married.”

“Yes, of course. And after that?”

“We carry on,” said Bond, smiling. “I’m rather looking forward to growing old with you.”


End file.
